


Flower Wreath

by beatrixlowe



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Fantasy, Gay Sex, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7465494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatrixlowe/pseuds/beatrixlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King of the fire clan, Lloyd had become numb to everything as his men waged war against the other elementals. He was certain that nothing would ever pique his interest, until he saw someone he thought he would never see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flower Wreath

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: This story contains slash, non-con and violence. There is coarse language, rape and some torture going on here, so please steer clear if you are not interested. There is some plot here though, and I tried to make things tasteful.  
> I wrote this story 2 years ago (when I was not as proficient) and this was my first attempt at writing sex scenes.

Lloyd reclined in his velvet cushioned throne, crossed his legs and supported his head with an arm propped on the armrest. Long black and orange fabric draped from waist down, along with ropes and chains, leaving his upper body and feet bare. The chunky golden anklets and bangles he wore clinked every time he twitched his foot in boredom or raised a hand to brush the long dark dreadlocks away from his face. His eyes were cold grey and resembled that of a dead man, uninterested in the dull violent world where he reigned supreme.

In front of him, slaves were brought in and made to kneel. His loyal servants prostrate at the side, silent, hoping that their young king would be pleased with their efforts in war. Outside this luxurious tent set out in the battlefield, raucous roars, barbaric shouts of joy and screams of terror could be heard. Already long accustomed to the noises, and used to victory, Lloyd merely spared those scrawny looking things a fleeting glance – how they trembled fearfully at the Demon King's powerful gaze – before waving his hand, his claws, and allowing his men to do whatever they wanted with the insignificant prisoners of war.

For years they have conquered, expanding their reach with violence, stealing from homes, killing innocents, raping the helpless and committing every war crime available. They crushed those high and mighty water wizards with their clubs and split their skulls with axes. They sometimes backed them into a corner, taunted them and laughed as they stuttered through feeble defence spells before ruthlessly cutting them in half right before the final syllable spilled from those quivering lips. For the winged air elementals, the fire mages sent fireballs against those frail arrows they fired. They would aim for the wings, so that the warriors could enjoy skewering them with swords as they fell.

The clan of fire had been looked down for centuries just because of their peculiar appearance. Some had flames for hair, some had fangs and some had claws, like Lloyd. They were treated as trash and forced to live in slums while the other elementals, water, earth and air, lived in luxury and prosperity.

Now they strike back with a vengeance. Now those people would know the full power of those who grew up in an unforgiving world. They would taste the bitterness brewing over generations.

Such were the shared sentiments amongst his soldiers, but truth be told, Lloyd could not be bothered.

Everyone seemed like fools in his eyes. His own men, his enemies, everyone. The world had gone crazy and even though he was king, he had no ability and no desire, to make it any better.

Let everything burn.

* * *

**Form a ring using hard wire**

* * *

"Your Majesty, the 214th expedition was a success and preparations for celebration are complete." His squire bowed deeply as he announced.

"I will grace the occasion." He spoke, emotionless, as he rose from his seat to his full height. More than six feet tall, Lloyd towered over most of his minions, who backed away in fear and awe. Only his squire dared to approach; swiftly draping a black cape over those broad shoulders before fading back into the shadows.

As he stepped out from the tent, men bearing torches lined up to lead the way and they saluted with their free hand as their king strolled past. Around him, soldiers dragged their slaves away, brought their torture victims aside, afraid to get in the king's way. He paused in his steps briefly to look up into the night sky.

The smoke of war tainted the air and the stars too, seem to have hidden away.

"Long live His Majesty, the king!" All his war generals and commanders greeted in unison the moment he reached the plateau. The sounds of wood crackling came from the huge bonfire in the middle as he was ushered to his seat which was stacked higher than the rest. Before him lay a feast; a huge spread of venison and seafood which was obviously too much for just one person.

The king seldom partook in such events. They seemed silly to him and it was too much of a hassle for him to attend these frequent celebrations. Too frequent – sometimes they almost had these on a weekly basis. His men never got tired of all the alcohol though; they remained drunk in ecstasy even when they took lives brutally.

"Your Majesty, we have special entertainment for you tonight." A clown, with face painted white, bowed before turning with a sweep of his arm to introduce the performers lined up behind him.

Those so-called performers were all young men with scowls on their faces. Judging from their pale skin and lanky bodies, Lloyd knew that they were part of the air clan, captured and blackmailed to provide entertainment for those who burnt their cities. They were ready to go through any amount of humiliation to save their family members who were held captive.

Most likely, they would all get killed at the end of the day, anyway.

He gave a nonchalant nod and music sprang alive. The sound of drums reverberated and cheers broke out, accompanied by the shrill sound of bagpipes.

The young men, all barely clad in semi-transparent loose dresses, started to dance hesitantly. Their every swerve of hip brought whistles and crude jokes mingled with mad laughter. As previously sternly instructed, they danced closer to the generals who ran their rough fingers callously against any spot of smooth skin they could reach. They leered in perversion.

Lloyd stabbed at his food and barely watched the performance. According to the jester, the performers were part of a dance troupe in their home country, but Lloyd did not care. He was here out of sheer curiosity and boredom, but alas, he knew that nothing in this world would likely pike his interest.

That was until his attention was caught with a loud cheer from everyone surrounding the circle. Swaying dangerously close to the bonfire, one of the young men had spread his wings. His shoulder-length hair was stunning silver and his eyes were azure.

A pure-blooded, winged air elemental.

Lloyd put down the knife he was holding and stared at the ethereal creature a distance in front of him. Even those perverted old men who were mocking the dancers took a turn and began praising the rare beauty.

Noticing the disgusting heated glances sent in his direction, the elemental danced a little more provocatively. Throwing his head back and exposing his neck, he extended his arms to show off every curve of his lean body. He knew that most of them were already spellbound and he intended to tighten his grip on them.  
This was his counter attack. He knew he would most likely fail, but he would rather die trying.  
He cast his eyes hungrily, and hatefully, towards where the king sat.

No one got in his way when he broke the formation with a graceful spin and approached the king with light steps, tapping the ground and following the rhythm along the way, as if in a trance. The loose dress he wore had slipped off his delicate shoulder on one side, revealing a nipple and the way he jerked and moved his hips made everyone swallow hard in arousal. His gender did not matter - they wished they were the white feathers that brushed teasingly against that porcelain skin as they fell.

Although Lloyd kept a poker face and seemed as cool as always, he felt a tiny flutter deep within as the angelic looking, devilishly seductive creature drew nearer. He had only met a few pure-blooded elementals in his life and he clearly remembered them.

His father was one of them, the ultimate killing machine that could demolish a town all on his own.  
The fearsome water elemental sage was another; he eventually died along with his father in a huge battle years ago.

And then there was …

Another spin finally brought the dancer right before the king. His stomach convulsed in tension and his heart pounded so hard he had difficulty breathing, but none of his fluid movements showed his nervousness. Held captive for days, he had been reserved as a special toy for the king and upon knowing that, he set his plans in motion. The potion of charm he stole and consumed earlier seemed to have worked well and no one suspected him of ill intent. Hidden among the feathers of his wings were needles coated with poison and now he only needed to concentrate on getting close enough. At last, he was able to confront this mass murderer and see how the monster truly looked like.

With a tilt of his head, he looked up at the king through the silver strands of hair falling over his face.

The face he gazed upon effectively wiped all traces of his coy smile away and his felt his blood turn cold.

Likewise, something wavered in the pair of grey eyes.

"…Lloyd…?"

In that moment his name was uttered, all the guards seemed shaken from a dream and they charged forward to protect their king. Horrified that his plans had collapsed so abruptly, the elemental spun and sent the fatal needles in flight in an attempt to defend himself.

His mind reeled in panic as he fought desperately but he was cornered in an instant.

Eyes wild, he scowled and charged at his enemies with a battle cry but was brutally hit in the face and held down.

This was it, he thought while squeezing his eyes shut and panting away in his badly shaken state. There was no way he could survive this.

"Hands off."

Standing a small distance away, Lloyd commanded in a deep tone and the guards obeyed unquestioning. Before they let go, however, they already made sure to tie those already powerless wrists behind his back.

Once the last guard who obscured his sight cleared off, Lloyd looked at the familiar face he had not seen in many years.

"Phoebus."

Hearing his own name called, the assassin lifted his head and glared at the king in confusion.

"Why… Why are you the Demon King?" He asked softly, heartbroken by the absurd coincidence. However, each word only brought to mind the scene of his family's gruesome death, so he pushed out the thoughts of the innocent, pitiful young boy in his memories.

"Why, Lloyd?! Why did you become like this?!"

Phoebus pushed forward furiously and struggled against the hands that held him back. This was all insane, everything had gone crazy.

"Why?!"

Ignoring the agitated cries, Lloyd turned to one of his men and simply said. "He is mine."

"No… let me go…! Let me… mmph!" Phoebus struggled in frenzy but was gagged and silenced in no time. A man approached with a piece of black cloth and those azure eyes could only stare unbelievingly at Lloyd before his world was consumed in darkness.

* * *

**Pick the flowers you like**

* * *

While drifting back to consciousness, Phoebus briefly registered that he had a pleasant dream of a time long past. However the clanging of metal quickly shook him back to reality and a jolt caused an ache to shoot from the back of his head down his spine. His wings were spread out and they pressed painfully against the wall. He tried to retract his arms but found them chained at the side, like the rest of his body. Dangling limply on those chains, he struggled to find strength in his legs and managed to straighten himself with much difficulty.

"You're awake."

In front of him, the king sat in a chair, watching him with those piercing eyes. That was when Phoebus finally registered the situation he was in.

His family was brutally murdered. He was held captive. His pathetic plan to assassinate the king failed.

The king who flipped all their lives upside down turned out to be his long-lost childhood friend.

Moments of silence passed between them as they observed each other, eyes scanning every feature of the face, recognizing familiarities, noticing changes.

"It's really you, Lloyd." The prisoner tried to speak and immediately realised how parched and scratchy his throat was.

"I had my suspicions when I saw your wings." The king stood up, casually removed some of the gold necklaces and bangles he was wearing and set them on the table as he spoke. "I didn't think I would ever see you again, Phoebus."

"I didn't think you would ever chain me up like this, or kill my family" Phoebus pulled once again with his arms, hatred threatening to take over logic.

He knew he could have used their past relationship as a bargaining chip to negotiate for his life or even freedom. But at that point, he just did not care about anything any more.  
He had no one else left in this world, so it would make no difference even if he died.  
In that case then, it would be far better to hold on to his believes and die a noble death than to succumb to cowardice and beg for survival.

"Why don't you just kill me?!" He shouted before breaking into a bout of coughs and tears sprang to his eyes as he hacked away uncontrollably.

Out of breath when the coughs finally died down, he could not resist when his chin was grabbed roughly.

"Mmph!"

A pair of lips crashed against his own and a tongue slipped in when he gasped in surprise, probing about and licking the insides of his mouth forcefully. Saliva mingled and Phoebus felt himself swallowing some of it in the chaos as he tried to catch his breath without success. His lids lifted with difficulty and he found himself staring straight into the narrowed gray eyes.

"!"

Lloyd turned away and wiped the blood seeping from the corner of his lips with the back of his hand.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Phoebus demanded with ragged breath. "You pervert!"

A smirk appeared, finally breaking the monotony of his stoic face. "'Pervert'? Is the best you can do to insult me? Besides, you are the one who tried to seduce me."

Lloyd easily dodged when Phoebus spat at him.

"Disgusting monster."

The air elemental winced when his hair was fisted and pulled back harshly. Those lips descended once again, driven by an unexplained strong intent. He thought about biting Lloyd's lips again but this time, his head was held at such an extreme angle and he was kissed so deeply that it was impossible to retaliate. No matter how futile he knew it was, Phoebus never stopped struggling and he refused to let himself feel any pleasure even as the tongue darted skilfully around his own.

Lloyd withdrew slightly, observing Phoebus' pained expression with satisfaction. "It was fate that brought us together again, wasn't it?" He whispered with a low voice and sealed those lips once again before insults could spill from them.

"Mm…! Hah…Ah!"

Phoebus gasped for breath the moment his hair was released, but arched his back in surprise when Lloyd bit his exposed nipple.

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away as far as he could, trying to make his mind blank. He witnessed this happening to his friends when they were held captive and so he thought he was already mentally prepared to face the horror of it one day. But the sensation almost became too much for him to handle when Lloyd tore the rest of his clothes away while rolling his already hard nub between tongue and teeth.

"Hng…!"

His face flushed and a lump rose in his throat as he did his best not to make any more sounds. He knew he was going to get raped but that did not mean he was going to just give the king what he wanted.  
But questions disturbed his focus and a moan ended up escaping his lips uncontrollably.

Why did it have to be Lloyd? Just how did the solemn, helpless boy become the Demon King?

He still remembered clearly how they first met. The scrawny boy sat huddled under a tree in the flower garden. His gray eyes were veiled in darkness until a light of curiosity peeked through it when Phoebus softly landed beside him.

" _Hey…Why do you look so sad?"_

"…Lloyd…" He whispered the name with a hitched breath and he was surprised that it contained more melancholy than hatred. Unexpectedly, the king stopped his actions and looked up at him. For just a split second, the prisoner thought he saw a glimmer of softness in his captor's eyes, but it quickly disappeared when the smirk returned.

"Enjoying this? Your face is red."

Phoebus grit his teeth, hardened his gaze and stared right back, fearless and defiant.

"Red from anger and disbelief that an old friend turned into a rapist."

Lloyd let out a laugh at that. "Friend?" He let out in a low drawl right beside Phoebus' ear as he pressed their bodies together. "You would call one who destroyed your town and murdered your parents a 'friend'?"

Claws lightly grazed his lower back and Phoebus sucked in a breath in panic despite himself.

"You didn't use to be this way, Lloyd!" He exclaimed, trying to use his memories of the innocent boy to block off his fear. "What happened to you?! Why did you become like this?!"

He winced when one sharp claw dug in and pierced his skin.

"You know, Phoebus. I've always liked you. Always admired your wings, your silver hair, your blue eyes…everything" He said in a deceptively cheerful tone, ignoring the gasps of pain as his claw slowly drew a line in blood, trailing downwards.

"Because of you, I wanted to become stronger. Look, I'm king now. Far stronger than I ever thought I would be."

By then, all five fingers slashed the pale skin and the gasps turned into strangled cries.

"Aren't you proud of me?"

Chains rattled as Phoebus frantically twisted his body in failed attempts to avoid the slow torture. Endorphins kicked his body into flight mode and the only thing on his mind was to get far away from his tormentor. Lloyd's words only barely registered in his mind. He did not detect the hint of sadness in his tone either.

As if bored from painting, Lloyd slowly withdrew to watch as Phoebus trembled involuntarily. His claws were stained with warm sticky blood and he brushed some of it on his victim's pale cheek.

Those claws that drew blood were the ones those soft hands held that day.

" _Don't touch me! E-everyone is scared of my claws…I might hurt you…"_

" _Aw, it's okay! You won't hurt me. See?"_

Lloyd thought that Phoebus was the most beautiful person in the world. He always cradled that image, of Phoebus' wide grin in acceptance of his being, close to his heart. At first, he treated the memory gently, as if protecting a delicate flower with both hands. But when his reality spun into madness and chaos, he stopped watering it.

* * *

**Remove the withered ones**

* * *

"Hng!" A groan escaped as he was hurled to the ground, hands chained together and held above his head by a pole. At least he was able to retract his wings from the momentary freedom when he was extracted from the wall. He had made a dash for the exit, but was kicked at his shin and forced to kneel. The sharp pain had become a strong throbbing ache and he knew he would not be able to leave even if his legs were not spread and chained to the other poles.

Lloyd hovered above, penetrating him with his stare, as if in an attempt to capture and enslave the very soul that dwelled within.

No matter how many battles he won, Lloyd never found satisfaction. He had become numb to all the violence around him and there was no other meaning to his life than to continue guiding his men in the illogical wars, to slash and burn until the day he was taken down. So much for being the mighty king. He was just an empty husk engulfed in the sea of hatred, his father's hatred, and carried away by its tides.

The azure eyes, blazing with hatred, made sense to him. Only this emotion was familiar to him and he knew how to react to it. He would conquer it.

"Where did that seductive side of you go?" Positioning himself between those injured legs, Lloyd once again lowered his body and Phoebus winced when the fresh wounds on his back pressed against the cold hard floor beneath.

"Dance for me again."

"No…! ngh…!"

He shuddered as Lloyd nuzzled into his neck and traced his moist tongue upwards until it reached his sensitive earlobe. The tongue lapped at the shell of his ear and Phoebus held his breath every time it delved in further. All he could hear was the wet sounds from the licking and it violated his mind to the point that he could not even hear his own rapid heartbeats.

Those claws started to tease his chest again; hovering lightly above each nipple, relentlessly circling until it stood erect, before trailing downwards.

"Ah… stop…Lloyd…" Without the space to struggle and the time to think, Phoebus could only react in a confused manner. A side of him remained logical and reminded him that this king, this murderous monster, was no longer the same kind boy from the past. Yet, another side of him refused to let go and wanted to bring that old Lloyd back despite his own sufferings. It was a laughable noble thought, really, for he could only lie there, writhing helplessly. His tormented body was starting to mistake those deceivingly gentle touches, as antidote to the pain.

He felt the blunt side of those claws lightly skimming over his stomach and a fire churned inside as his body arched, craving for more.

"Yes. That's the way."

The low chuckle snapped Phoebus to his senses and he shook his head madly in denial. But a palm rested on one side of his face firmly and held it in place as his lips were attacked again.

"Mmph! Ngh...ha.. Mm…"

Their tongues intertwined like lovers. There was something so sweet about the kiss that Phoebus forgot to resist.

If it was not Lloyd, he was sure he would be able to completely shut off his emotions and feel nothing.

But it was him, it was the boy whom he left his house at night secretly to meet. It was the person he embraced without hesitation every time tears flowed from those sad eyes.  
Slightly older and stronger then, he had fought off bullies, his own kind, to save Lloyd.  
He had offered his hand and lifted him in flight, and he still remembered how Lloyd's face lit up when they were among the stars.

" _With my wings and your claws, we can be just like the eagles soaring in the sky!"_

It was the endearing person who took his hand unquestioningly.

"Have you…forgotten…?" He asked amidst gasps. "All those…time we spent…together…"

For a moment, hurt flashed in Lloyd's chest when he looked into those eyes glistening with wetness. His finger hovered, guided by a strong urge to gently brush all remnants of tears away from the long lashes. But at last, the sight of his own bloodied claw stopped him.

Time would not rewind. It was too late, he knew he could never go back to the time when the two of them shared smiles. Too much blood has been shed, too much stained his inhuman claws which were only capable of destruction.

He knew there was no turning back when he walked away from that tombstone, from the flower wreath that lay on the ground, and left his home town with his father who swore to take revenge.

A hand reached to his back and cruelly pressed into the cuts. Blue eyes widened in shock.

"I am raping you, Phoebus. Sure you can think about other things?"

His mouth clamped on to a nipple and he alternated between licking, sucking and biting. His other hand gripped the half hard member and began pumping.

Both pain and arousal assaulted his senses. Phoebus threw his head backwards and jerked his hips about; resisting, avoiding yet yearning, all at the same time. Silver strands of hair stuck messily to his face and some got into his mouth as he panted weakly. The hand on his back gradually backed off, letting pleasure take over momentarily. The longer it lasted, though, the more Phoebus was able to regain control over his thoughts.

The pleasure was only physical, only on the surface. It was a biological reaction he could not help.  
What Lloyd said was true. He stopped thinking, stopped pointlessly reminiscing the distant past.  
Instead, he focused his thoughts on his family's recent death; how flames consumed his parents, how they chopped off his brother's head and tore open his sister's stomach.

A blood curdling scream ripped from his throat and he kicked wildly, ignoring the burning pain on his shin. His knee managed to hit something but it was immediately pinned down. Still, he gripped tightly onto his rage; his own nails sank into his palms and he glared at the imposing figure above him in fierce refusal to submit.

An impact abruptly stopped his scream and forced his vision sideways. It took a while before he registered the sting on his cheek - he had been slapped. Somehow, that slap felt much more humiliating than everything that happened to him so far.

"…I'll kill you…" He muttered through gritted teeth, all shards of pleasant memories of their past discarded. "I'll fucking kill you!"

"Oh? Would love to see you try." Lloyd spoke distractedly while he conjured flames to the tip of his claws. Then, without warning, he brought it to the inner thighs and seared the tender skin there in one swift motion.

"Hah…!"

Cold eyes watched as Phoebus bit his lips to stifle his whimpers, then his gaze scanned downwards and rested on the limp penis.

"What happened? You were reacting so well earlier." He taunted while probing the tip in reminder that he could easily slice it off whenever he wanted.

Phoebus inhaled sharply when warm lips enveloped his penis and began sucking. There was nothing subtle, nothing teasing about that action; it was merely one to force him into arousal. His whole body ached and his head was in a mess.

"No…! Stop! No…" He mumbled in delirium but was too battered to fight back. A wave of pleasure rocked over him when the hot tongue lapped at the tip and he bucked against his own will. The claws that danced at his side, dangerously near his wounds, signaled to him what would happen if he moved carelessly. One of them, coated in blood and pre-cum, eventually found its way to his rear entrance and circled it. The sharp tip probed around slowly before pushing inside.

"Stay still…unless you want cuts on the insides too."

For once, despite the anger that burned within, Phoebus did as he was told. It was not because he had admitted defeat, rather, he was just obeying the instinct within him to avoid more agony.

Taking in deep breaths, he worked to endure the ordeal, but he was surprised by the lack of pain. Even when a second finger was added, the action seemed…careful. As if Lloyd was trying not to hurt him. He did not recall something like this happening to his friends when they were raped; those brutish men just rammed into them without preparation.

It was silly of him to think this way, when all the injuries on his body were caused by this cruel man, but he could not help but feel hopeful that the boy from the past still existed in him.

Phoebus thought he was going crazy, alternating between his conflicting thoughts so many times in just a few minutes.

But if Lloyd was still as gentle as he used to be, would he be willing to have sex with him?

That question allowed the floodgates to open and Phoebus accidentally let out a loud moan when those fingers reached a particular spot deep within.

"You're ready." Lloyd commented and through hazy vision, Phoebus tried to look at his face.

He saw gray eyes burning with intense desire.

* * *

**Bind the flowers tightly to the wire loop**

* * *

With a grunt, Lloyd pushed into that tight entrance and continued pressing until the pale body beneath him arched upwards. Sweat dripped from his forehead and excitement coursed through his veins with the dizzy realization that he was inside Phoebus. He was finally embracing the man he forgot he loved.

He began moving, slowly at first and then speeding up when it became harder to hold back.

He savoured the moans and whimpers from Phoebus who was already delirious with pain and pleasure. Those parted lips, with saliva trickling at the side, looked so delicious that he could not help stealing another kiss.

However, a nagging thought kept him from drowning in the heat. If anyone attacked him now, he would not be able to fight back. He had millions who wanted to kill him and thousands who would gladly usurp the throne at any sign of weakness from their king. It was an irrational thought, for he already threatened to kill anyone who disturbed, and no one truly dared to go against him. But it was the conditioned thought of one always living in peril.

Hating the lack of control, he breathed deeply and tried to clear his mind.

"Amazing. You can feel so much even when in pain," he whispered into the ears and smiled when Phoebus shuddered. "So sensitive."

"Shut up… Ha…!"

His hand wrapped around the shaft once again and his thumb rubbed the tip teasingly.

"You're leaking so much."

"No…ah!"

With Phoebus completely helpless beneath him, Lloyd felt a bit more relieved. That's right, he was the king and Phoebus was his prisoner. He was simply raping his prisoner. There was nothing more to it.

He quickened his pace and slammed hard with every thrust. More than once, his hips brushed the burn he left on those inner thighs, but his pumping hand distracted Phoebus from the pain.

"Ah! No, I…!

"Going to come?"

The shaking head amused him. He squeezed the shaft to force Phoebus out of denial, and he smirked when those blue eyes shot open.

"Beg me for it."

"N-Never!"

"So stubborn. Let's see how long you can last."

For the next few thrust, he sadistically paused to observe the little reactions that Phoebus tried to suppress. Through half-lidded eyes, he observed the escaped sighs and how he would flinch when he hit a weak spot inside.

Then his actions grew savage and he pushed rapidly as he approached climax.

The cries raised in pitch and sounded more urgent, but Lloyd did not relent. He could feel the twitching in his palm but he did not let go.

He was in charge, in control, and he would not give a mere prisoner whatever he wanted.

But he could not look away when he saw those familiar eyes gazing at him, into him, burning him with hatred, passion and melancholy.

"…Lloyd…"

That whisper, so soft and weak, tugged at his heartstrings and snapped his control. Before he knew it, he had slipped both arms under Phoebus's shoulders and was kissing him deeply, swallowing his moans. They rocked together, oblivious to their surroundings, ignoring all reasons. Then there was a sudden squeeze, and the sensation was too much for Lloyd to bear. With one final thrust, he spilled his desires deep inside.

He held on to Phoebus as he panted, burying his face into the pale neck.

He held on to that moment, that warmth, that temporary respite.

And then he let go.

* * *

" _There you go! So this is how you make a flower wreath. Got the steps memorized?"_

_The wind blew and around them, colourful flowers rustled and petals flew. The air was warm and filled with a pleasant scent. Bright moonlight shone where they sat together, alone, in that beautiful flower garden._

" _Thank you, Phoebus." Lloyd smiled shyly as he received the wreath. "I will place this at my mother's grave."_

" _No problem!" The angelic boy grinned proudly, his azure eyes twinkling like the million stars in the clear night sky. "But, aren't you going to make one of your own?"_

" _I…I'll try, but…" Short dishevelled black hair fell over his saddened grey eyes as he dipped his head in shame. "My claws will only end up destroying it…"_

" _Lloyd…"_

_His name was called so tenderly that his heart skipped a beat. And when he looked up, he was met with the most loving eyes he had ever seen. Even his parents did not look at him like that._

" _You are fine the way you are." Phoebus said softly with a smile. "I love your claws and I hope you'll always stay the same."_

_Lloyd choked back a sob, struggling not to let it show how much those words meant to him._

" _So, just practise and make one for me when you are ready, okay?"_

_He could only nod._

* * *

"Hey you! You're in charge of keeping him alive right? Deliver this to his room. It's an order from the king."

"Yes sir!" The young soldier respectfully received the item and saluted. He stayed in that position until his superior was out of sight.

"The fuck…?" He mumbled under his breath as he walked. "Who sends a slave gifts? Our king must be going crazy."

In the first place, it was just plain weird to have only one sex slave and to keep him for could the king not get tired of fucking the same person?

Ugly rumours were spreading, that the king had fallen in love and become weak.  
Those were just rumours, the young soldier had believed, as the king was still as ruthless as before. The people who secretly jeered at the king still cowered at his presence.

But now that he had been in charge of that slave for a month and witnessed how often the king visited, he was not so sure any more. The item on his hand especially intensified that doubt.

When he reached the room, he opened the door and flung the gift on the soft ground.

"From the king," he announced with a bored voice.

In front of him, an air elemental with wings and long silver hair leaned against the padded wall, naked and broken. Numerous scars ran all over his thin body. His head was tilted to the side, his eyes stared blankly and did not even turn to acknowledge his presence.

Frustration quickly rose as he recalled how he had to go through all those duties that did not fall within his job scope as a soldier. He had to clean the man, clear his wastes and even force feed him whenever he tried to starve himself to death. There was even once when a soldier before him got executed because this idiot almost died from knocking his head on the wall. Everyone had to build this padded room just for him.

"Tch… fucking troublesome." He spat, slammed the door shut and left, planning to enjoy his lunch with his comrades.

In the room, dull eyes slowly shifted to the object. A distant memory flickered in his mind and for once in a very long time, he wanted to move, to reach out and brush his fingers over it. But alas, the urge died so he returned to the emptiness he had trained himself to only feel and the glint in his eyes faded away.

The wreath of withered flowers lay on the floor, untouched.


End file.
